Fanatic Heart
by s1ncer1ty
Summary: s1ncer1ty at her angstiest. Six years after their adventures in the Digital World, the Digidestined have gotten on with their lives... except Matt.


**** Standard Disclaimer: Digimon doesn't belong to me, yadda yadda. This tale is from Matt's point of view, and it takes place six years after the first season. The second season Digidestined don't exist (which is how it should have been!). No one has been back to the Digital World for years, and mostly everyone has gone on with their lives. A little melancholy, but I think it's somewhat upbeat at the end, relatively speaking. Oh, and for some reason I used the Japanese names. It felt more appropriate for this tale. So, here you go. Enjoy, Yama-fans! o.o ****

* * *

"Fanatic Heart"

_I remember your eyes  
from the twelfth of July  
when the sirens were screaming  
and the flames lit the sky.  
And you held me so tight  
I thought you'd never let go  
'Till the bullets exploded....  
Then the pavement below....  
Still got that picture of you  
swept away from the start.  
It's frozen inside  
my fanatic heart..._

It was raining again. Seven days ago the sky just opened up, and the rain hadn't stopped since. Days like this, I missed people the most. I'd think back to the time when we'd all been together, the eight of us. Digidestined. Who knew that Ishida Yamato would be destined to spend his evenings alone in this run-down studio, drinking a little too much, smoking way too much, and constantly wallowing in glimmering memories of the past? At least the memories brought a little light in the otherwise dismal room.

I sat looking out the window at the rain that continued to drench the streets and population of Odaiba. I'd only been up an hour, and already I was on my third cigarette of the day, savoring the warmth and the faint crackle as it burned. I'd once told Taichi that smoking was as close as I could come to breathing fire, to reproducing the power that our tiny Digimon companions wielded with ease.

We were the source, but they were the power. I would gladly have taken on their role if given the opportunity. But no, I was frail, human. If Gabumon had been hit with a laser blast, he would have been hurt, but he would have quickly regenerated. If I'd been hit with the same force, there wouldn't be enough of me to sweep up in a dustbin. It was a wonder we all survived what we did.

I turned to stare at the phone, which had only rung twice in the past three days. The first call was a telemarketer, trying to sell me a magazine subscription. I talked with the perky lady at the other end, desperate for someone to listen to me. I'll admit, I was a little drunk at the time, and I must have rambled quite a lot because she eventually slammed the phone down on me. I didn't buy any magazines.

The second call came today, from my brother Takeru. He'd woken me up to wish me a happy seventeenth birthday and to ask what I planned to do with the day. I pined for human contact, but I couldn't let Takeru see me in this state - unshaven, wearing the same clothes I'd worn for the past week. I told Takeru that I'd already made plans, that I'd be away for the day, but thank you anyway. I'm not sure if he bought it. I suppose I could have made the effort to clean myself up some, but I just couldn't summon the energy.

I sighed, forcing myself up from the chair beside the window. I was seventeen today, and I still continued to sleep away most of the week. When I wasn't sleeping, or curled up on the bed, I watched television. Through that, I managed to escape into that fantasy world I wished I could return to. But now, the Digital World, Gabumon, the Digidestined, the Dark Masters... It all seemed like a dream to me, sometimes.

When we'd finally returned to the real world, six years ago, we were together almost nonstop. Even though the eight of us were all completely different people, our adventures in the other realm had given us a bond that most kids only dreamed about. We were interconnected - on our gatherings, Taichi and Sora would rally us all for a game of soccer, or baseball, or some other sport; Koushiro would start up a discussion about his latest theories on the Digital World; Takeru and Hikari, the youngest, would run off together to play on the swings; Jyou would pace and fuss, as usual, from the sidelines as the rest of us took on the challenge of the latest sports game; Mimi and I would entertain, her with her singing and me with my harmonica.

Jyou slipped away first. I remembered clearly when he discovered he'd been accepted to a rather elite, private high school. He'd been elated - there, he could continue his studies to become a doctor. However, the long hours spent on homework and extra projects took its toll on the time we'd all spent together. Then, Taichi and Sora started following up on the feelings they'd developed for each other over the years. The two were still inseparable. Takeru and Hikari had their own issues with junior high, and soon couldn't relate as well to us older kids. Mimi moved to America, with her parents. Finally, Koushiro had managed to snag an internship at a local software developing company. The kid was a genius, and the company quickly started to refine the skills of their prodigal find.

That left me. Sure, I'd spent some time starting up a band. However, after so many bad gigs, I just couldn't accept the concept of failure. Hadn't we proven ourselves by saving not one, but two worlds? I didn't understand why it was so difficult to land a show at even amateur nights at the coffee shops, after I'd faced death at the hands of supernatural evil so many times before.

The loud ringing from the phone jolted me from my reverie. The sound, despite having heard it this morning, was still unfamiliar to me. I lit a fourth cigarette to calm my nerves. A drink. I needed a drink, but I decided to hold off until after the phone call. On the fourth ring, I answered.

"Yeah?"

"Hey, Yamato! It's me, Taichi!" The voice at the other end sounded altogether too perky. A faint wave of jealousy washed over me. Taichi had gotten his life together after the adventures in the Digital World. Why couldn't I, six years later?

"Oh. Tai. Hello." I replied. After a pause, I figured I should say something more. That's the way telephone conversations worked, right? "How are you doing?"

"Good, good," laughed Taichi. "Sora's doing fine, too. Hey, I just spoke to Takeru, and he reminded me today's your birthday!"

I sighed quietly. "You didn't remember," I stated.

This caused Taichi to chuckle nervously. "Well, I would have remembered at some point!"

"Mm-hmm."

"Anyway, what are you doing today?" he asked, trying to compensate. "Been up to anything interesting lately? You've been really scarce, according to Takeru."

I took a drag from the cig, knowing full well how much Taichi disapproved of the habit. "I'm not doing anything today. Nothing today, nothing yesterday, probably nothing tomorrow. What else did you and T.K. talk about?" I asked, calling my brother by the nickname he'd assumed six years ago in the Digital World.

"He's worried about you, Matt. He says he hasn't seen you in weeks."

"He shouldn't worry."

Taichi let out an audible breath as he tried to control his growing frustration. He always did have a short temper. "Hey, what's with you, man? He's your brother. Give him some consideration, okay?"

"Mmh, okay." I had no desire to say much more, and this incensed Taichi further. I could hear the annoyance in his voice, though he was forcing it down as best as he could.

"You know, I'm worried about you too."

Before he could go any further, I cut him off quickly. "Tai, I have to go. The oven's on fire."

I could hear him protesting as I simply hung up and fell back into the chair. The conversation, short as it was, had drained me. I pondered for a few moments actually getting dressed to go see Takeru, or to call Taichi back to apologize, or even to call Jyou or Koushiro. Someone.

"Gabumon," I whispered aloud as I stubbed out the cig in the overflowing tray, "if you were here, you'd be able to help me figure out what to do." The longing to see my Digimon friend again was unbearable, as it was most nights. I wondered if he'd been able to get on with his own life, or if he was, in his world, also moping over a past neither of us could return to.

I didn't even have a picture of my friend. The memory of him was fuzzy in my mind after all this time apart. He was a yellow lizard-like creature, but even I had never seen his face since he hid it beneath the wolf's mask and fur pelt. A shy Digimon, but also wise, and more patient than I could ever hope to be. Despite the friendship, I was still somewhat jealous of him. He was together, and could evolve to such a powerful state as MetalGarurumon.

Why couldn't I evolve as well?

I shook the pack of cigarettes sitting on the arm of the chair beside me and found it empty. As I rose, I'd originally intended to seek another pack, assuming I even had that. I couldn't even afford to keep bread on the counter, and the milk in the fridge was several weeks old. Instead, I paused to reflect by the glass door leading out to the balcony of the apartment complex.

Even though it was raining and absolutely frigid outside, I stepped out into the squall, bare-chested and shoeless. The wind whipped through me like a knife, but at least I was feeling something. It was almost a nice feeling, despite the pain, until Jyou's voice echoed through my mind, chiding that I'd certainly catch cold if I stayed outside any longer.

I ignored the warnings of the ghost-Jyou in my mind. He was gone, far gone, as was everyone else in my life. Even Takeru. He was fourteen, and was apparently quite popular at school. He'd managed to come out of a divorce and a war in the Digital World unscathed, if not better. He didn't need a depressed wreck of a brother bringing him down.

'No one needs me anymore, do they?' I thought to myself as I clutched the cold railing at the balcony's edge. The wind and the wet plastered my hair to the sides of my face in a tangled mop.

When I looked down to the concrete ten stories below, I realized just how welcoming it appeared. Sure, Takeru and the others would be sad, but they'd get on with their lives soon enough, wouldn't they? After all, they were able to put the Digital World so far behind them six years later.

"Crest of Friendship," I muttered, circling my hand around the tag and crest I still wore around my neck. I gave a tug on it, and the metal chain snapped. Some of the broken links scattered across the balcony. "Some friends I have."

I studied the tag and crest which I'd received so long ago in the Digital World. Koushiro and I had climbed down a well to retrieve ours, mine of Friendship and his of Knowledge, and through our energies projected through the crests, our Digimon were able to evolve further. It was a simple tag, plastic and diamond-shaped, the crest within almost appearing like a Yin-Yang symbol.

"What good is this to me now?" I wondered aloud, clutching the final reminders of the Digital World in my fist. "It's not like I'll ever need it to help out Gabumon again." Suddenly angry, I threw the tag and crest over the balcony, as far as it would go before it was lost into the cloud-darkened day. I regretted it immediately, and that regret only caused my anger to fester more.

With wet-slicked hands I gripped the railing and vaulted myself up onto it, pulling my legs over so I could sit there, right on the edge. One slip, and I would nothing but a bloody splatter on the pavement below. That is what I wanted, right? If so, then why should I hesitate?

An image of Gabumon floated before me, though I knew it was an illusion. Just an hallucination, brought on by my own insecurities. He would try to talk me out of jumping. Maybe he'd even evolve in order to prevent me. But Gabumon was far, far away, and despite Koushirou's valiant attempts, there was no gateway to the Digital World that would be opened in the near future.

My fingers trembled as they clutched the rain-slicked railing. What if Gabumon died along with me? No one had ever determined what would happen to our Digimon if one of us Digidestined were killed. Perhaps it would be better for Gabumon - if the link between us was still as strong as it had once been, maybe he was feeling the same way I was, as well. Maybe death would be welcomed by the gentle Digimon, especially if he empathized with my own suffering. Maybe...

"Oniichan," a voice behind me whispered, interrupting my thoughts. Takeru! I hadn't heard him approach. I didn't even know how he'd gotten into my apartment. I kept the door locked tight, since it was located in a cheap, dangerous neighborhood.

I turned slightly, just enough to catch sight of him out of my peripheral vision. He stood in the doorway to the balcony, the rain pattering off the floppy hat he always insisted on wearing. His clear blue eyes, identical in shape and color to my own, were wide. "T.K. What are you doing here?" I muttered hoarsely.

"I -- I wanted to see how you were. Oniichan..."

"Don't give me that 'oniichan' crap!" I snarled. "Don't even start, T.K." I didn't understand why I was lashing out at my brother. Even as depressed as I was, I couldn't let him witness what I was about to go through. But yet, it was also too late to turn back. "Just go away. Leave me alone!"

Takeru didn't move, as if frozen in place. His only movement was a rapidly hitching chest as his breath quickened. "What do you think you're doing, Matt?"

I sighed deeply, hoping that Takeru would go away if I was nasty enough to him. Deep down, I knew he wouldn't. "I said get lost, T.K. I want to be alone."

He took a step forward, slowly inching his way out towards me. He didn't make any sudden moves, lest he startle me into actually jumping. "Sure, oniichan." He paused, then amended, "Matt. I'll leave you in peace. If you'll just come back inside, alright?" The boy was terrified, evident in his trembling voice.

I raised my brows. "Don't come any closer, T.K. Or else."

"Or else what, Matt?" He was fighting with all his might to keep calm.

"You know, Takeru," I murmured, turning my gaze from him towards the rain-soaked streets below. Down on the ground, no one had even taken notice -- in this neighborhood, it was always best for people to look the other way in most cases.

"Okay." I could hear him breathing loudly. He was just a kid, only fourteen. Yet he knew that this was one battle he'd have to fight alone. Patamon, his Digimon companion, couldn't help him now. "Then could you at least tell me why?"

I shook my head, my fingers still wrapped tightly around the cold railing, although the sting of the freezing rain had started to taper off some. "You just wouldn't understand, T.K."

"Why? Because I'm just a kid?" he asked. "Matt, I understand more than you can even imagine. I've seen the way you've been living, the way you've distanced yourself from everyone who loves you. I've seen the way you've given up your life. Oniichan, it's not worth it."

"I told you not to call me that!" I shouted angrily, my voice echoing and resounding across the nearby buildings.

Takeru took in a shuddering breath. "Matt, things change. Everything changes. I know you miss Gabumon and the Digital World. I miss Patamon, too. I think about him every day. But there's still hope that we'll see them again."

"It's not just that," I snapped in return, still not facing him. If I faced him, I knew I would lose my resolve. "Don't you see? We used to be a family. All eight of us! Now I'm lucky if I happen to spot Koushiro in the tube."

"Why don't you give them a call, then? I'm sure everyone would be glad to hear from you."

I shook my head. "They wouldn't want to. I'd only bring them down. My purpose has been served, here and in the Digital World."

Takeru protested, "Just because we're no longer needed to save the Digital World, doesn't mean life is over! Come on, Yamato-chan. Let's go inside and we can talk this out."

I turned then, angrily facing my younger brother. "What kind of life is there now? How do you go from a hero one day to a has-been the next? No, Takeru, it's time." I turned away and let go of the railing, leaning forward to let gravity take over.

Takeru screamed and started forward. "Oniichan!" Before I knew it, he'd hooked his arms around my chest and was bracing himself against the railing to keep us both from toppling to our deaths.

I struggled against his grip. "T.K., let me go!" The ground loomed far below, and my feet kicked into empty air. Still, Takeru held fast. He was stronger than he looked.

"No, no, Matt, I won't let you go!" He tried to pull me over the ledge, back onto his side, the side that still held solid ground ten stories in the air. I could hear him sobbing, tears he'd tried so hard to keep under control. "Oniichan, I need you!"

Suddenly, I could see Takeru, as a young child. When he'd been in the Digital World, he'd cried all the time. He was also eight years old then. I'd sacrificed everything for him, just to keep him safe. He was my baby brother, after all. The light in my life. He was my hope. I recalled lulling him to sleep so many times in the Digital World when he'd had nightmares or when he missed Mom and Dad. I remembered how he'd laughed when he helped to destroy Puppetmon's lair, and how he cried when he and Patamon had to go their separate ways.

He cried then, as he was crying now, like a heartbroken boy about to lose his most valued treasure.

"Oniichan..."

I stopped kicking, stopped trying to free myself from his grip. Instead, I held onto his arms. It was then that I realized the ground was so far down, dizzyingly so. "Takeru," I squeaked out, suddenly quite afraid.

With a shout of exertion, Takeru pulled as hard as he could. His fingernails dug into my bare arms, slick with the rain, and they left thin scratches of broken skin and blood. The railing smacked me hard in the middle of my back, and I thought I was going to black out from fear and pain. Then, as the world swam before my eyes, Takeru gave one final tug, and pulled me back onto the balcony.

He stared at me, his blue eyes wide and teary, his chest heaving. He couldn't speak; he only mouthed my name inaudibly before curling himself into a tight, shivering ball. My brother still needed me. I needed him.

"T.K..." I whispered. "I'm sorry. So sorry."

On my hands and knees, I crawled across the cold, wet concrete of the balcony until I reached Takeru. I put my arms around him, needing to comfort him. And needing to be comforted.

"Yamato," he murmured, raising his head and clinging to me tightly in return. "Why did you do it? You knew you could have come to me. To anyone..."

I shook my head. "I don't know, Takeru." The answer would have to do for now. I began to shake, feeling tears of my own starting to well up. "Help me, oniichan."

Takeru's jaw firmed, and he somehow gathered the strength to bring both of us to our feet. Supporting my weight, he brought me inside, holding fast to my shoulders. "Talk to me, Yamato. Tell me everything. We can get through this together, like old times."

I believed him. At least, it was a start. 


End file.
